"Build the Spartan virtue high
From the Helot's wine-dead soul;
Scorn the wild, hot flames that fly
From the purple-hearted bowl!
LV.
"Helot clay! Gods! what its worth,
Balanc'd with proud Sparta's rock?
Ours—its force to till the earth;
Ours—its soul to gyve and mock!
LVI.
"Ours, its sullen might. Ye Gods!
Vastly build the Achean clay;
Iron-breast our slavish clods—
Ours their Helot souls to slay!
LVII.
"Knit great thews—smite sinews vast
Into steel—build Helot bones
Iron-marrowed:—such will last
Ground by ruthless Sparta's stones.
LVIII.
"Crown the strong brute satyr wise!
Narrow-wall his Helot brain;
Dash the soul from breast and eyes,
Lash him toward the earth again.
LIX.